


Best Laid Plans...

by WolfLion



Category: NCIS, Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Lots of Cursing, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfLion/pseuds/WolfLion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you lie, you should be specific.  When you fake your death, make sure you cover your bases.  Cause when you forget to tell the family...some one is going to get burnt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Left hand free

Listening to the two people he held in greatest esteem degrade him was making his stomach turn. How could Ducky think he was a narcissist? How could Gibbs and Ducky compare him to a serial killer? Was he really seen that way by the people he had considered his friends and family? Didn’t they know him? How could they wound him this way?  
He could almost hear his cousins’ words to this. “They are idiots. They see but do not observe.” “Caring is not an advantage.” “I can ruin their credit score. Disappear their bank accounts.” “I can make them disappear.”   
There was something that made him raise his head. There she was. His cousin Tavi. Damn. She had heard. With a slight tilt of his head, he motioned to her the need to sneak out.   
“Marcus Antonius.”  
“Octavia Agrippa.”  
Standing in the hallway between the morgue and elevator, he could look at his smaller cousin and see the killing look fade as she smiled that very Holmesian smile.   
“Tony.” “Tavi.” The hug they shared was a hair tighter than usual, but still the best thing he could have at this time.   
“What’s up? Not that I wouldn’t love a purely social call from you.” Tony kept his arms around her. Tavi may be all of five foot four and built like a tank but she would always smell of home to him. Lavender, cedar and almond.   
Tavi gave him a quick squeeze. “Not here, darling. We need to tell your director something. All I can say at the moment is someone declared war on the family.”  
“Fuck.” Tony moved them faster through the halls and up to Vance’s Office. He could hear the warm laughter in her voice as she said, “Well said Lord Orator.”  
Tony didn’t think about them being in the middle of a case. He didn’t blink at the bluster that he received from Vance nor did he react to telling Vance he was resigning effective immediately. He didn’t flinch when he handed over his badge and weapon. He didn’t see his team so didn’t have to deal with that while he cleaned out his desk.   
Tony could admit it was like he was in a tunnel as he focused on the one thing Tavi had whispered into his ear when they had gone up to talk to Vance so that he could ditch his job and this life he had built in Washington. “Lock jumped from St. Barts. In front of his Watson.”

Tony knew he would have to express his gratitude to Tavi’s husband, Johnathon “Jack” Bell. Jack got the both of them on a plane, handed him his passport, papers and a cuppa of proper tea before Tony could register he was being handled. Not that he didn’t need that at the moment. Jake reassured him that all of his things would be packed away into storage before five o’clock. Homeland would take care of his lease and closing out his utilities.  
Tavi and Jack laid out what they knew. Siger was still hidden in the basement of MI6. He was the one funneling what information they had at the moment. Since the youngest of the Holmes family was completely unknown, he was safe and being protected by his lovers. Mycroft was still alive and seemed he had not contacted the American branch of the Family. Not that they could blame him. Sherlock had been playing a bit of tug of war with a megalomaniac that liked use bombs as talking points and if the Jack’s and Sig’s information was right; he kept a pair of pet snipers. These he used to insure his will was done. Tony closed the files he was reading.  
Seemed that from what they could deduce from information Sherlock had left, James Moriarty knew of only “the Ice Man and the Virgin”. How the heck that mad man had come up with that was a mystery. Seemed he had a singular view of the oldest of this generation, or least who he thought was the entirety of the family. How did he miss the rest of the family? Siger worked at MI6, but considering he was called Q now, he could almost forgive the over sight. However, Aunt Marnie was still alive. Tavi had been raised with the rest of Holmes boys. Nothing was really hidden. His own mother may have had the name of Paddington, but she was still of the Holmes family.   
Tony rolled his neck and stared Tavi and Jack in the eye. “Can ‘mastermind’ criminals not do back ground searches?” Tavi blinked.   
“Excuse me?”  
“Tavi, Jack, there is only one way to push Smaug off a building. He had to threaten someone very important to him. Most likely several. I can’t see him having threatened, Ferret or Lion. Watson, yes. The brothers no. Certainly not Aunt Marnie, cause she never goes to London anymore and unless you get someone who drop a bomb on the Great House; she is safe. Anyone who really knows the family would know about us two considering, we both know there are pictures of the whole family in a dozen newspapers.”   
Tavi blinked and smirked. “Using the old family nicknames?”  
“Can you think of a better time than now?”  
“Excuse me, but what are you two talking about?” Jack had a faint look of interest on his face.  
Tavi and Tony shared a rather sweet smile as Tony explained, “When Siger was about six; Mycroft had given as a birthday present to Sig a copy of Kipling’s The Jungle Book. He got a kick that one of the stories was about a mongoose named Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. From there he decided we all needed an animal to be nick names. This put off Sherlock. Mycroft didn’t care as long as we never used the names outside of the family.”  
“Don’t forget that Mycroft doted on Siger as if he was Mycroft’s own.”  
“Well there is about sixteen year’s difference. He could have been.” The look of unholy glee and mischief was telling its own story on the face of the two near siblings.   
“Are we talking about the same Mycroft Holmes that walks with an umbrella and seems as straight laced and uptight as a corset?” Poor Jack, he had never met the relaxed family man version Mycroft. But then, having his wife of fifteen years laughing to the point of tears was not helping.  
“Jack, when Siger was six, Mycroft was twenty one. He was also drinking heavily to counter act the stress of doing a double major in Uni and deal with all of the family legacy nonsense. He was just starting to work with or as if you believe the rumors. Sherlock was just starting to really be a little shit at thirteen, so any time he was home, Mycroft was a blue jean man who was getting leg over at night and running around the house playing with Sig and the rest of us.”  
Tavi pulled her hair up into a pony tail as she added, “So Croft was having a very good time. Something he had been doing since he was sixteen or so. It wasn’t till he had his heart broken at twenty two, that he started with that ice man persona with every one that wasn’t family.”  
“So to get back to the story, Mycroft was declared to be the Great Scottish Lion because of his red hair. Tony was the great Khan because as pretty as he is, he could still hide in plain sight. I was the mongoose. Sherlock was going to be Bagheera. ‘Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody dared to cross his path; for he was as cunning as Tabaqui the Jackal, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.’   
Somehow, Sherlock decided it was insult. He huffed and stomped off declaring that if he was that as snidely as he could than Siger was a little ferret. Siger was heartbroken because he loved Bagheera. He had curled up in Mycroft’s lap and cried his little heart out.”  
That evil look crawled over Tony’s face made many a coworker cringe. “So I pranked the hell out of him till he apologized to Siger. While I was making it so he would never sleep with clothes on again, Tavi and Croft were reading the Hobbit to Sig. So when Sherlock finally said he was sorry in the worst possible way, Sig announced loudly that everyone in the family room Sherlock wasn’t nice like Bagheera. He was an asshole like Smaug.” Everyone laughed.  
Tony leaned his head back a bit and sighed. “Has to be at least three. Most likely two snipers and a close up assassin. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” The two cousins stared at each other hard.   
“We use the nick names only for now on.”  
“I agree Mongoose.”  
“Wait what?”  
“Husband, what would make you jump? Threats to me? Not completely. We have worked together for too long. So the softest spots would be the nieces and your parents. So who did he threaten? It would be Watson for sure, but not any of the blood family. So who else?”  
“Since we can suppose it wasn’t any of us it had to be people that Dragon sees every day. Some one that he would miss immediately. Someone lethal to his thought processes…” Tony and Tavi tossed files around looking for the one piece of information they had missed.   
Tavi gasped; “Kahn, Moriarty said he would burn the heart out of Sherlock according to this transcript.”  
“That leaves who? Land Lady, Restaurateur, Several Officers and a M.E.? Who are we missing? What are the patterns? Snipers work best when the have the prey making planned stops, predictable behaviors.”   
Jack watched them read and take notes. Something was off in this. He knew that while the family could be stand offish they cared deeply. It hit him then.   
“To hell with who was targeted, the question is how did Dragon survive the fall?”


	2. Hey Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mummy Holmes has a dirty mouth.

Alec was not a happy man at this moment. He should be home with beloved Q and James. He had been very comfy curled around Q while James went on his morning run and food for them. Six weeks of both of them on assignment meant that Q had been at headquarters most of the time. So the only food in the house had been bread in the freezer and plenty of tea and alcohol. 

Mummy Holmes calling stopped all the long sweet and decidedly hot kissing that had been going on before James came home. He wasn't unsecured in his manhood. That is why he is heading into the Cotswolds’ on a bloody cold and wet day in the first place. James was always better with weepy women. But as his bloody adorable lover would say, “Mummy asks, we do. After all, she claims that we are not too big to turn over her knee.” 

Of course the woman that was waiting for him at the head of the steps of the great and terrible house, was not weepy. Marnie Alexandria Holmes looked more ready to go to war than a weepy fragile woman. There was no hint of grief on her face or tears in her eyes. She was wearing the steel grey and black. She was subtlety armed. He didn't have time to get out much less open the door for her. It seemed she just popped into the front seat. 

“Hello Alec dear.”

“Lady Holmes.”

“Mummy dear.” The small smile and soft hand that cupped his face as she said that made Alec smile as well. Damn her.

“Mummy.” “That’s a good boy. We are flying to London. Drive around behind the house and toward the barn.”

“Excuse me?” Alec knew he was showing more emotion than he was supposed to. He was not going to gainsay her with this. 

“This has gone on long enough. If one of my sons is dead because someone pushed him, well that fucker had better be dead as well as all of his. That he didn't come to me nor did Mycroft warn me, means someone that still threatens our family is out there.” Marnie stared Alec in the eye. 

“Family helps family above all else. There is nothing on this earth I wouldn't do for you or any of my children.” Moving fast the car was emptied and they were flying out on a run way that Alec hadn't known was at the house.

“Mummy? What are you thinking? What are you going to do.?” The smile that spread on her face would have made any 00 proud of the death and destruction that was promised there.

“Oh that is easy Alec dear. We will knock on some doors, ask some questions, torture some arseholes and light a hell of a lot of fires. And if we are really lucky, we may even leave some of England standing.”

"I like fire."

Mummy Holmes just smiled and patted Alec's hand. "I know you do dear. James like explosions so we will just have to do a few for him. But first I would like to ask you a few questions. Like when are you and James going to make an honest man of my son? Or make me a grandmother?"


	3. Bloodstream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake up and look me in the eyes again  
> I need to feel your hand upon my face  
> Words can be like knives  
> They can cut you open  
> And silence surrounds you  
> And haunts you...

There was a hole in his chest. John wanted to poke it. He wanted to find the hole cause even though it felt that the hole was there he couldn't find it. Was his heart still beating or had it stopped when Sherlock jumped. He knew he had begged God that this was some horrible nightmare. He was still begging for that. Just one more miracle. John wiped his face again. Fuck, he was crying again. 

Sherlock was like some drug or infection. Had he inhaled him? Where was he? Was he there some place between where John could just not put his finger on him? Sometimes he looked back and knew Sherlock was the best drug in the world, strong, portent and flowing in his blood. Sherlock who drove him mad, yet still could make him laugh. John stared at the chair and violin. 

"I miss you Sherlock. I want to wake up and have you look me in the eyes again. I need to feel your hand upon my face. I want to nag you about experiments on the kitchen table. I make to much tea with out you here. Why, Sherlock? Why this?"  
John could feel the tears running down his face again. The Sig that had replaced his Browning was on the table next to him.  
He want to keep it close. He wasn't going to kill himself. It was like a teddy bear. A comfort. With a shaking hand he stroked it lightly. He knew he was drifting. Maybe he would sleep and this time when he woke, Sherlock would be alive. 

It was the soft tread on the stairs that woke him. Not Mrs. Hudson, nor the thump that signaled Mycroft. Greg's tread was heavier. Fanning sleep, he still tucked his weapon under the blanket. Let who ever it was come. If it was a damn reporter he could scare them. If it was a enemy of Sherlock's or him, well Mycroft could get off his arse and help after all he did.

"So do you think he and Sherlock were lovers?"  
"I hope not. Though I do think they did love each other. It is hard enough when a friend falls on his sword for you. But a lover, Alec? If they were lovers, we may have to make sure Dr. Watson doesn't eat a bullet."  
John kept his eyes at slit as he watched the door. Would they pick the lock? What were these people here for? There it was. the sound of keys. Who had a key to their flat? There. The door was opening. And older women and middle aged man. The man moved like a predator. 

"John Watson? My name is Lady Marnie Alexandria Holmes. I am Sherlock's mother and I am very happy to meet you."  
Well she knew he was awake. Opening his eyes he stared at her. She didn't move out of the door way. The man she called Alec was just behind her shoulder. 

"Do you really think Sherlock loved me?"

Lady Holmes smiled readily. "I know he does. He may be an ass some of the time. Yet I know my son loves you enough to talk about you every time he spoke to me, of his brilliant Watson." The woman smiled and walked to John, cupped his face so very gently and whispered; "Shall we go destroy the one that pushed him off that roof?"

John smiled back to her. This he could get behind. "Of course Lady Holmes. Shall I pack a bag?"

Both of his guests smiled back a him. "No need. We can always send someone to pack one for you." John stood slowly. It wouldn't do to fall in front of these people. Turning to the large blond, he held out his hand. "John Watson; and you are?"  
"Alec Trevelyan".  
"Excellent. We should get going before the sniper across the street is found."  
"Found?" John felt the cold sweat bead at the nape of his neck.  
"Yes, only way to make so one like my son to jump. Sad really. We will have to call my oldest or youngest to get the  
body before it is found by someone else. We need the identity of course. Silly girl. Scope flash."

John found himself bundled up in his coat and out the door. His arm held out for the Lady Holmes. The ubiquitous black  
car at the curb. He paid no mind to the fact that he stroked the Sig in his pocket or to the fact that the reporters were no longer blocking access to the door.  
"Sherlock was good for me. He made me come alive."  
Lady Holmes looked at him. She wasn't herding him to the car. Her bodyguard held the door open to the back but he wasn't pushing for them to get in.  
"He made me his suicide note."  
"John, what he did is...it is done. We have to go on. I can make no excuse for my children's behavior or language. I can not heal this wound. I can give you what to need to make it another minute, another hour, even another day."  
John stared at her for a moment. "And if I need to burn London down to ash?"  
"I will give you the petrol and matches."  
John believed her.


	4. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the way Myc wanted to wake from a nap.

Mycroft sighed and leaned back in his chair.  He was tired.  Everything felt like it was running faster than he could control it.  Things where slipping out of his grasp and dealing with Sherlock was driving him crazy.  It did not help that this was making his own relationship with Gregory strained.  There were just somethings that could not be helped.  He was dreading dealing with the family when they would find out about Sherlock's death.  So far they had been lucky that all the family were so busy with their own lives. 

Sherlock was down with a light pain killer. He was lucky that there was not more than some light bruising from his fall.  Even though he could ill afford the time for either he or Sherlock to be resting, a nap would do the both of them good.  Mycroft laid his head back and drifted off.

The soft sounds of music drifted into his barely waking head as the smell of beef stew and fresh baked soda bread tempted him awake.  Mycroft could feel someone staring at him.  He put the clues together and swore lightly under his breath.  The masculine chuckle was not what he expected.  Opening his eyes to see Tony sitting across from him was not a completely unexpected surprise.   

"Why are you here Antony?"

"Where would you expect me to be, King?"

Mycroft passed a tiny bit of glare at Tony. "America.  With your team." He could not help but stare at Tony as he stood up and wandered the room.  

"Really Myc?  You expected me or just the  _whole family_   to stay away while you and Lock played at this?"  Tony gave the same smirk that always infuriated Mycroft.   Mycroft stood up so fast that his chair spun away, his fists curled into the desk blotter and he knew he was snarling.

"You think this is a game?  Something to play at?  There has been a sniper trailing my lover, a bomber and mad man threatening Sherlock and his lover and you think this is something we have been playing at?  There was a reason that we didn't run to the family about this.  The fucker didn't know about you and the others." Mycroft slammed his fist into his desk top. "What did you want us to do?"

"Admit you needed help!  Call us and say hey! By the way there is a lunatic who wants to be Sherlock's play mate and by the by he likes to strap bombs to people.  Hell! Be nice and say keep a look out, just in case."  Tony snarled back at him.

Mycroft could feel the blood drain from his face.  "How did you know about the bombs?"

Tony glared at Mycroft for a moment.  "John told us."

Mycroft felt a bit weak in the knees.  If John told ... oh gods... did that mean....  Mycroft sent a pleading look at Tony.   "Kahn.  What exactly do you know and who all is here?"

Tony circled the desk and hugged his favorite asshole cousin.  "We are all here, met all the lovers, and John has a hell of a right.  Sherlock's nose is huge and red. We all know and talked about it while you were napping.  We are here for you both."

Mycroft felt like a weight had been lifted.   Then he noticed the smirk was back.

"But we are not helping you out with Greg.  He's in the Kitchen with Auntie.  I was sent to get you for Supper.  By the way, I really like Sig's boys."

 

 


	5. To Austin from Medina

Greg stared at the house he had been sharing with his sometimes lover. He and Mycroft both worked very busy jobs and there was times where they would not see each other for days. He found himself debating whether he could open that door and face Mycroft or should he just go back to his flat.   
“Are you going to just stand and look at the door or go in?” The young man standing behind him made Greg’s heart stop. He looked so very similar to Sherlock at 20. He knew he was gapping like an idiot but he could not stop himself. His only thought was how had either Mycroft or Sherlock have a son without him knowing?   
Following the young man into the house, Greg entered into Bedlam. The front parlor had two men and a woman sitting in the parlor drinking while a third man was cursing Sherlock out solidly. Wait a moment. Sherlock was alive. SHERLOCK WAS ALIVE!!!  
Greg hurried over and hugged Sherlock as hard as he could.   
“And there is the other reason that you should have let the fucking family know you bloody twat! Detective Lestrade and your Watson! And whoever else that was used to get you in this position. Bloodly buggering fuck! If you are in a threesome or harem or whatever without telling Auntie, I am standing behind your little brother.”  
Greg pushed off Sherlock to look over his shoulder at the blond that was blistering Sherlock’s butt without letting him go. “Brother? As in there are more of you Holmes?”  
“Why are you still holding on to me?”  
Greg looked back at Sherlock in shock. “Because you were dead you idiot. Now you are not. Where is Mycroft and someone needs to explain what is going on.”  
Sherlock looked at Greg with a lot softer expression than he usually gave Greg. “It is actually very simple. You, John and Mrs. Hudson had snipers on you. If I didn’t jump, Moriarty was going to have you three killed. I jumped.”  
“Ah.” Greg stood back from Sherlock slightly, “Where is Mycroft?” There was a clatter behind him. Greg turned half way to look behind him. Where John was collapsed on the floor of the hallway. An older lady with a slightly wolfish looking man was helping John to stand up. Once John was up under his own power he grabbed and held on to Sherlock as if he let go Sherlock would disappear. The Feral looking gentleman went to the youngest Holmes and hugged and kissed the young man hello.

“Your Mum is frightening, Love.” The gentleman who introduced himself as James guided Greg to sit down. “Aww Alec, Mummy was a tad scary? Did she drive?”  
“The bloody plane. Can you build us a plane like her Moony?”   
James looked over at Alec and back to the youngest Holmes. “Q? You built your mum a Moony?”  
“No, I did not ‘build” my mother a Moony. I certainly would not have built her a M20T Predator. She bought it herself and upgraded it to her own specs.” Q sighed. “Mummy can do her own tinkering. Who do you think taught me?” There was a small smirk on the youngest Holmes’s face.   
“James, it is blue like the Caribbean sea at dusk with stars painted on it. It has a lot of guns and bombs. It is strangely glorious.” Alec grabbed onto Q and laid a kiss that made Greg blush. The sound of a body hitting the ground made Greg look away from Q and Alec to see Sherlock on rug looking at John in a way that Greg was sure he did not want to see. The sound of a soft chuckle and a softer hand light on his elbow made Greg turn to the older woman.   
“Welcome to the family Gregory. I’m mummy. Do call me so.”  
“Hello Mummy. I’m Greg. I wish Mycroft had told me about all of you.”  
“Ah yes. My Children the function mutes. Too many years of someone wanting to hurt the family or people just not able to handle the insanity that comes with being a Holmes. Please don’t take it personally.” Greg blinked at Mummy Holmes.  
“Not sure if I should or not.”  
“Oh darling. You should. But that is your choice.” Mummy Holmes raised her voice “Come children we are off to the kitchen, oh good Lord, Q! You three go find a room. AND NOT YOUR BROTHER’S ROOM! I am sure you will want to sleep in your bed here tonight.”  
Greg looked back over his shoulder as Mummy pulled him to the Kitchen. Seems James and Alec had the youngest of the siblings sandwiched between them. He may not have seen what they were dong but the moan was telling enough. John and Sherlock were snogging on the rug.   
“Tavi dear, Can you and Jake make us all some good strong drinks? Tony, my sweet boy, come help me in the kitchen and we can regale all the spouses with the story of why my dark little angel like building guns, why Tavi and Sherlock are not allowed near the stove and If any of you fake your death without telling me beforehand I am going to tan someone’s hide.”  
“Mummy! Please don’t tell anyone that story!”   
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes!! You will let me talk about every single horrible silly embarrassing thing I can think of this evening or I will introduce John to M. Do you understand me? I will not have the rest of this family go through what we did with your Father and me.”  
Sherlock bowed his head. “Yes, Mummy. I will take my punishment.” Greg thought Mummy Holmes looked like an avenging angel.   
“Punishment? Oh Lord no. This is not punishment. This is just a tiny little bit of tit for tat. If I wanted to punish you young man I would have brought out baby picture or presented you with paternity papers for a ewe. You are getting off lightly. If this travesty had gone on for longer…Well I am sure you would have understood why your father slept at Uncle Mortimer’s for a year.”


	6. Mi Na Samhna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beginning of the end. sorta.

As soon as the news had hit Homeland about the request from the NSA and MI6 to pack up and ship Agent Tony DiNozzo’s apartment as a ‘favor’ to the two agencies; the fecal matter had hit the fan. Questions that many people should have been asking for years had come up. Quite a few very uncomfortable were asked. Why had DiNozzo quit? Why had he never mentioned his family connections? How long had he been a British Citizen? Why had he stayed at NCIS as long as he had and why had he not been a team lead? Had he given up his American Citizenship? Was he returning? Who exactly was he working for now? Was he coming back to the states and if he was who was going to win the bidding war to have him work for them? 

All of this questioning was being talked about only in the highest levels. No one from England was talking. Either they didn’t know or the right question was not being asked. Of course Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn’t know about the chatter. All he knew was Vance was happy that Tony was gone. Gibbs was pissed. How could Tony leave without talking to him much less leave without permission. It didn’t help that Tony had been gone 12 hours before he had known. That Tony had quit and cleaned out his desk without anyone knowing or seeming to care. It really wasn’t helping that he was just as much at fault as the rest of the team. After all, he hadn’t notice till he went to Tony’s apartment at lunch to kick his ass for not calling in or responding to his calls. 

Tony just disappeared. His apartment was cleaned out. His desk was cleaned out. His bank accounts had been transferred and without a court order, they could not legally find out where. Sitting at his desk, Gibbs knew in his gut that Tony was gone. He may be not dead but the chances where good that he and the rest of the team would never see him again. It left a cold feeling in his belly and when he was being honest with himself in heart. That feeling that he was at fault for Tony to be gone. It sucked.   
Tim and Abby where looking for information. Gibbs didn’t think they would find out much more than they already knew. 

Tony sighed as he sat with His Aunt. The funeral, while it had been a farce, had been well done and he had been awed at John’s performance. Everyone was gone at the Mycroft’s house. Tavi, Jack, Sherlock and John had all fled to the continent to hunt down the rest of Moriarty’s crime syndicate. On paper at least, John was working with MI6 in his partner William Scott, in a joint operation that could take years with the Americans. They would be meeting up from time to time with Siger’s double 007 and 006 for help and information.   
With Greg on administrative leave because of this whole debacle, Myc had taken this as an opportunity to move him in. It was so good to see Myc in love again. He had been expecting a huge row. All that was overheard of the conversation was, “Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you never told me about your family?” “Never! I am ashamed of them. My family is full of dangerous nutters! You realize that Sherlock is the least dangerous one out of the bunch?”   
The rest of that conversation had been held in private, and he could have lived without knowing that Greg was a screamer. He looked over at his Aunt.   
“Feeling lost Tiger?” Tony sighed again.   
“I came over prepared for a war. I left everything. I don’t know what to do.”  
Marnie smiled softly. “I know Michael wanted you to work in Intentions either for MI5 or MI6. Gregory knows you were an officer. You could apply for the Yard. Or…”  
“Or?”  
“Or you could take the name your blood father wanted, take the Lordship over from Michael and accept your inheritance.” Tony frowned a bit.   
“And that would mean?”   
“Power, money, land and best of all. You will be free from the crap that comes with being a DiNozzo. Antony, look at me nephew. We have wanted you all along. There are things only Lord Holmes can do. Let Michael deal with the government day to day things. I would love for you to do the things that would make you happy.”  
Tony leaned back into his chair and stared off into the evening sky.   
“I keep thinking of that poem you know. The Tyger by William Blake.”  
“All of it or just a part?”  
“All of it. Parts of it make me think of Myc and some of Sherlock. All of us actually. Do you really think I should be a Holmes in name Aunt?”  
“Mortimer wrote up the paper years ago. All you have to do is sign it.”  
“Let me think about it. I am jet lagged.”

Marnie watched Tony walked off into the house to crash for the evening. She sighed softly and began to recite.  
“Tyger Tyger, burning bright,   
In the forests of the night;   
What immortal hand or eye,   
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.   
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,  
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?  
And when thy heart began to beat,  
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,   
In what furnace was thy brain?  
What the anvil? what dread grasp,   
Dare its deadly terrors clasp! 

When the stars threw down their spears   
And water'd heaven with their tears:   
Did he smile his work to see?  
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,   
In the forests of the night:   
What immortal hand or eye,  
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?”  
“Blake Mother? What has you so maudlin?”  
“Antony.”   
“Hmm. Him, we can help get back to being a Holmes.”  
“Indeed.”


End file.
